A Christmas Apart
by howzitthen
Summary: Due to their differing views on Christmas, Nick is in Chicago for the holiday without Jess. The absence of Jess (in addition to a handful of unexpected visitors) may cause him to change his perspective on the holiday.
1. Chapter 1

**I honestly don't know where this came from. This is not my 'thing' at all. But what the hell, right? Some of you will see where this is going straight away. Hopefully it's not too obvious. Thanks for giving it a shot (if you do). Fingers crossed it turns out well.**

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring… except Nick Miller. He laid on his childhood bed, bundled tightly in a ratty old navy blue robe that once belonged to his father, twirling his cell phone anxiously in his hands. It was just past ten o'clock, but here he was, in bed earlier than he had been in well over a decade. A number of factors contributed to this early bedtime, not the least of them being the company he was keeping. His mother was an early riser on most days, and an exceptionally early riser on Christmas morning. There were also no children in the house this year, and no children meant no need to find a way to sneak presents under the tree at odd hours of the night. Bonnie Miller had gone to bed well over an hour earlier, assuring her ability to get an even earlier than usual jump on the following morning.

Further complicating matters was his brother. Jamie had, along with his fiancé Deandre, recently moved back in with Bonnie under the guise of helping her through the grieving period. It's not that Jamie's heart wasn't in the right place, and Nick didn't necessarily object to Bonnie having a little company around the house. But the truth was, Jamie was saving up for a wedding, and the arrangement was mutually beneficial. Bonnie provided cheap room and board, along with several home cooked meals throughout the week. Jamie and Deandre provided not just company, but someone for Bonnie to take care of. And just that day, Nick had witnessed first-hand how Jamie's unintended hijinks had helped give his mother added reason to get up and face the day.

Earlier that evening, as Nick helped Bonnie with some early preparations for Christmas dinner, Jamie took it upon himself to surprise his mother with an outdoor lighting display that was sure to make her smile. Unfortunately, Jamie did not take into account the fact that the several thousand Christmas lights he had haphazardly strung about the house and yard could potentially require a little more electricity than their modest suburban home was able to support. It was just past six o'clock when the circuits blew, leaving the Miller household without electricity.

Bonnie and Deandre had searched the house for flashlights and batteries, trying to find what they could before they completely lost the daylight. Unable to find but a single flashlight, they had been forced to rely on an abundance of barely scented off brand candles, leftovers from a less that lucrative racket Walt had tried to cash in on years previous. While they were busy hunting for sources of light, Nick and Jamie had spent the early part of the evening lugging the three large kerosene heaters the Miller's owned from the garage to the house. Luckily, the temperatures that evening were barely forecasted to dip into the high 20s, so the risk of burst pipes and the permanent damage that would go along with them were not a concern. Keeping warm for the next 48 hours or so, until an electrician could be bothered to come take a look, was.

So Nick sat on his bed, his room illuminated in candle light, staring at his cell phone. Perhaps the biggest reason Nick planned to turn in early this evening was because he was alone. He had texted Jess several times throughout the day, and had gotten no response. He imagined, at that moment, she was probably just finishing dinner with her Mom at some favorite childhood restaurant up in Portland. He wasn't certain how it worked, of course, but his assumption was that Christmas Eve would be sort of a girl's night with Joan, while Christmas Day would entail Jess going over to Bob's and making him a modest, but delicious, home cooked meal. Jess loved to take care of people.

Nick again looked at his phone and frowned. His battery was getting quite low, and he was now without a means to charge it. Not that he necessarily expected to hear from Jess that night. Not after the awkward way they had left things. He set his phone next to the candle on his nightstand and reclined back onto his bed as he recounted how things had gone down.

It had been just two nights earlier. Nick was in the loft, relaxing on the couch with a Heisler. In order to earn a little extra holiday cash, he had just come off back to back double shifts at the bar, and he was looking forward to doing absolutely nothing for a few hours. It had been a rather slow night, so he had been able to leave work a little early, but the fact remained: he had spent 24 of the last 48 hours working at the bar, and he was looking for a little precious alone time. Winston had gone to meet his family in Phoenix, where his sister was playing in a week-long WNBA exhibition series, and Schmidt had reluctantly traveled back to Long Island to visit his mother. Jess was over at Cece's, wrapping her Christmas presents, and wasn't expecting him home for another two hours. Nick would have plenty of time to unwind and veg on his own before she came home, and he was looking forward to both occasions.

But he hadn't been on the couch 5 minutes before Jess came through the door, toting an armful of newly wrapped Christmas presents.

"Oh, hey Nick! I didn't think you'd be home yet."

"Yeah, got off early," Nick said, as he stood up. "Can I give you a hand?"

"No-no! Some of this stuff is for you, so," Jess said, walking the presents into her room before appearing back in the hallway. "No peeking."

"Jess I'll never understand you and your undying love of all things Christmas."

"And I'll never understand how you don't love it. I mean, there isn't even a tree up in here! What is that?"

"I'm sorry, Jess, it's just not my thing. Never was, not since I was a little boy. And as for the tree, I usually leave that up to Schmidt."

"Well, it kinda bums me out a bit. Doesn't even feel like Christmas around here this year," she said, putting her hands on her hips.

"Is that somehow my fault?"

"Nick, that's not what I'm…"

"Because, I'm sorry, but not all of us love the Holidays, Jess. For some of us, it's just a time of missed flights, guilt trips, and spending money you don't really have."

Jess took a deep breath to calm herself. Nick was leaving for Chicago the next day, and she planned to enjoy her last night with him before he left. That was her plan, anyway.

"Besides," Nick said, taking a sip of his beer. "I never got the point of dragging a living tree out of the earth and throwing a lot of plastic on it before watching it die in your living room."

"Oh, C'mon Nick. I know you don't love Christmas, but you aren't going to change my mind about loving it."

"Jess, I'm not…"

"The music, the presents, time with your loved ones. I really don't see the problem."

"Meh," Nick said, shrugging.

"And you? You grew up in Chicago, where you get actual snow on Christmas! It must've been so beautiful!"

"Bah"

"Did you just say… Bah?"

"Bah."

"Oh… my … God, Nick!"

"What's the big deal, Jess? I don't care if you love Christmas. You can love it all you want. I just can't promise that I ever will."

"Obviously," Jess murmured under her breath as she folded her arms and sulked towards her room. "Wouldn't even invite me to come home with you."

"Are you kidding me?" Nick said, following after her. "Jess, what's the problem?"

The entered her room, and Nick couldn't help but take note of the pile of elaborately wrapped and impeccably stacked presents on her bed, complete with ribbons, bows, and tinsel.

"Nothing, Nick. Let's just forget it okay?"

"Jess, we've talked about this. It's just going to be me, my Mom, and my brother. We'll eat ham. We'll complain about the Bears. We'll do some dishes and we'll go to bed early. Nothing worth dragging you to Chicago for."

"That's hardly the point, Nick."

"I don't get it," Nick said, pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "You've got your own family to go see. Your mom seems like she's the type to go nuts over Christmas. And Bob… well, not Bob so much, but you'll see him, too."

"That's not the point, Nick," Jess said sadly.

"I guess I'll never understand, Jess. Your Christmas will be way, way more fun than mine. If that's not the point… the sharing, the family, all that… humbug… then what is?"

Jess sighed sadly and walked over to Nick, putting her hands on his shoulder.

"The point is, I invited you to come to Portland and enjoy all the 'humbug' with me. And I knew you wouldn't come. I knew it was important for you to go be with Bonnie for your first… y'know… your first Christmas without… Walt."

Nick looked down at the mention of his father. Jess paused a moment before continuing.

"But you… you never even invited me to come to Chicago with you. "

"Jess, I'm telling you, it's not like… a fun thing you're missing. It's going to be totally lame, probably a little sad. You don't want to be there."

Jess smiled a sad smile and took her arms off Nick's shoulders.

"Still not really the point, Nick."

"Jess, I…"

Jess continued to smile before turning toward the door.

"It's okay, Nick. Maybe… maybe next year. I… I'll be right back. Got a few more presents in the car."

"Jess…"

"It's fine, I'll be right back," she said, and left the room.

Nick sat in his childhood room in Chicago and recalled the rest of the evening. Jess came back a few minutes later, but the conversation was not continued. They watched a little TV on the couch together before turning in. They kissed goodnight, even holding each other at times throughout the night, but there was still something off. The next morning, Jess acted as though nothing had happened. They got up, had a quick breakfast, and she drove him to the airport. Before leaving him at the gate, Jess had hugged and kissed him, and she even smiled one of her signature, bright smiles before waving goodbye. Still, Nick knew that he had screwed something up.

He looked again at his phone and considered calling her. He instead powered it down to save the battery. He'd call her tomorrow, he thought. She was more of a Christmas day girl, after all. He set his phone back on the nightstand and picked up the candle. He pulled the robe tight around his chest and stepped into a pair of slippers at the foot of the bed. He held the candle in one hand as he went to the door of his bedroom and quietly cracked it open. He crept quietly through the hall and down the stairs, then into the kitchen to the refrigerator where he pulled out a beer. He set the beer and the candle on the kitchen counter as he opened a cabinet next to the sink. He pulled out a bottle of whiskey and eyed the level. This would do.

He grabbed a small tumbler out of the cupboard and poured himself a small shot of whiskey. If he was going to fall asleep in any reasonable time frame, he was going to need a little help. He downed the shot quickly, and poured himself another, longer pour. He placed the bottle back into the cabinet, picked up the beer from the counter and slipped it into the pocket of his robe. He then grabbed the candle and quietly made his way back up the steps to his room. As he approached the door to his room, he began to feel the warmth of the whiskey in his belly. He smiled as he entered the room, and quickly set the beer and the candle on the nightstand as he closed the door behind him. He took a sip of from his tumbler as he walked around to the other side of the bed.

He took a second to look out the window. Despite still being relatively early in the night, the street was dark. No lights on in any of his neighbors' houses, which seemed a little odd. Odder still was the fact that nobody on his street seemed to have put up Christmas lights this year. All that lit the street were the dim street lights that were planted in the tree lawn of every fourth house on the block. As Nick pondered the scene before him, a large gust of wind howled past the window, rattling the shutters and shaking the house itself. Nick instinctively took a step back from the window before finishing his whiskey with a final gulp. He sat down on the bed and reached over to swap his glass with the bottle of beer on the nightstand. He turned back to the window and took a sip of the beer. His head had started to feel a little light, and his plan to aid his sleep seemed to be working. He slowly yawned and rolled his neck. He let his eyes close for a few moments until a noise snapped them open.

From the hallway he heard footsteps. Slow, deliberate footsteps. They continued from down the hall, steadily moving towards his room. Turning expectantly toward the door, Nick waited. He knew Jamie felt bad about blowing the circuits in the house, and he wasn't really surprised he'd waited until their Mom was in bed before coming to properly apologize. So Nick waited. Jamie sure was taking his time, Nick thought, as he shifted his entire body to the other side of the bed, facing the door. As Nick listened, he noticed a different sound he hadn't previously: the sound of softly clanking metal, bouncing off itself, in time with the footsteps. Clank. Clank. Clank. Nick furrowed his brow, curious to what that noise could be. Clank. Clank. Clank. The footsteps stopped just outside Nick's door. He waited for the knock.

The knock didn't come. Nick scratched his head, wondering if his ears (in tandem with the whiskey) were playing tricks on him. He squinted hard at the door, trying to see through the darkened room. The footsteps had stopped, and so had the clanking. He slowly lifted the candle from the nightstand and held it in the direction of the door. As he waited for his eyes to adjust, he started to see something.

In the wood grain of the door, a shape started to form. And from that shape, a figure. And from that figure… a face. Nick's eyes got wide as he tried to blink the image away. His instinct was to run, but he sat, frozen with fear. The face slowly took form. It was a man, an older man with grey hair. As the faced continued to contort and from, the hair on its head grew longer, into ear length waves. As Nick sat paralyzed, the face began to become familiar. The hair, the eyes, the dimples… the sliver, push broom mustache. The fear left Nick, but the confusion did not. After a few more moments, the form had completed its materialization. And there he stood before Nick, wearing a forest green suit over a black sweater, three gold chains of varying thickness and style around his neck. A few loud coughs lurched his head forward before he straightened up. He opened his eyes, and smiled widely at Nick.

"Pop?" Nick managed to eke out.

"Hey there, Nickels. We need to talk."


	2. Chapter 2

**So many kind words about the first chapter, I just have to quickly say thank you to everyone who took a second to share your thoughts. I sincerely appreciate it. As you can likely tell, brevity is not my thing, so I hope you can hang in there for this one. As most of you probably know by now, we're just getting started. As always, thank you for reading.**

Nick sat glued to the spot and stared into the face of his father. After what seemed like a long, long time, that face spoke again.

"Now, I can see how this could come as quite the surprise. But, you see, Nicky…"

Nick reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the beer that sat upon it. He hesitantly took his eyes off of his father and examined the label of the beer.

"Must've been some fancy whiskey," he muttered.

"Okay, I see what you're thinking. But Nick, I'm here to…"

Nick shut his eyes, raised the bottle to his lips, and drank. He pressed his eyes shut tight, threw his head back, and didn't come up for air until the bottle was completely empty. He absently dropped the bottle onto his bed and very slowly began to open his eyes. His father still stood before him.

"Still here, kid. Now, if you don't mind, I really don't have a lot of time."

"What… how…"

"I'll get down to it," Walt said, walking slowly in the direction of the window. "I don't guess I need to tell you that I've made a few mistakes in my life. More than a few. A lot. My share plus the shares of many others, if we're being honest."

Nick's eyes never left Walt's form. The rapid dose of alcohol apparently hadn't caused this hallucination, and it clearly couldn't erase it, either. But it had left him feeling somewhat dulled. And while not of lick of what was happening made any sense, he was no longer freaking out.

Walt stopped and the window and looked out onto the darkened street. He paused and stared somberly at the scene before turning back to Nick with a serious look on his face.

"Turns out, regret is the one thing that you _can _take to the grave. In fact, you don't really have a choice in the matter."

"What… what is going on here, Dad? How is this happening? Why…"

"I'm getting to that part. You see, I have to make some things right. I don't get to… rest… until I make a few things right. Right by you, right by your brother, and right by your mother."

Walt stepped over to the bed and took a seat next to Nick, careful not to sit too close.

"Like I was saying, we don't really get a choice. When we… die… we take all that regret with us, and we have to try make things right before we get to finally be at peace."

"Dad, I still don't see what this… whatever this is… has to do with me."

"I've trying to save you some legwork, son. I'm trying to cut down on your regrets."

"Yeah, well, good luck with that," Nick said as he got up and began pacing the room.

"I know you've got a lot you're not happy about right now, kid. But you're still young. You may have things you regret right now that you will think differently on someday. And there are probably some things you'll figure out on your own, no help from your old man necessary."

"Not sure I follow, but go on."

"There are some things you gotta start working on soon. They can have kind of a snowball effect if you don't gets started on them sooner than later."

Nick stopped pacing and looked down at his father. Somehow, he had just accepted all of this. Perhaps later, he would shrug this off as a wild dream. But for the time being, it seemed very, very real.

"Okay. What do I have to start working on now? Why are you here haunting your son on Christmas Eve?"

"Okay, down to business. I like that. The reason I'm here is simple. It's about that little girl you've been seeing. Jess."

Nick closed his eyes as the air escaped his body. The mere mention of Jess' name nullified the effects of the whisky, the beer, and to a degree, even the appearance of his dead father.

"What about Jess?" Nick asked cautiously. "And how do you even know her name? You met her once. I feel like it took you a few years to get Jamie's name right."

"A woman with eyes like that? Uh-uh, kid. I'd never forget something like that," Walt said, rising and approaching Nick. He reached out slowly and put his hands on his son's shoulders. Nick didn't flinch, and he wasn't even surprised to feel his father's touch. Instead, every bit of doubt, every bit of uneasiness left him the instant he made contact.

"But more than that, I'd never forget the way you looked at her. The way you looked at each other when you each knew the other wasn't looking."

Nick looked at his father and let his words sink in. Was it that obvious, even all the way back then?

"Look, Nick. I know you two are new and all, and I know you've never been the holliest of jollies this time of year."

"Gee, I wonder why that is?"

"Well… that's exactly why I'm here," Walt said, unable to hide a trace of disappointment as he let his hands fall from Nick's shoulders.

"Look, Dad… I'm…"

"No, you're right. And that is why I am here. I had a hand in making you this way, and I'm here to make sure it stops. Now."

Nick rubbed his eyes before shaking his head.

"I don't see what one Christmas apart is going to do. Just because I'm not a holiday person doesn't mean anything."

"Nicky. I know it's just one Christmas, but it's important to her. And it could be important to you, too. In fact, it will be if you don't start playing your cards right. But you have to start soon. This may seem like a little thing, but trust me, it's not."

"I know she doesn't like the fact that I'm a bit of a Grinch, but I still don't see this really being a big deal."

"So you're happy with this situation? You, halfway across the country, sleeping in the same twin bed you slept in as a child. The same twin bed where you used to only dream about meeting a girl like Jess. While she's out there on the west coast, wishing…"

Walt's face fell as he stopped himself. He looked down at his watch before looking back up at Nick.

"Wishing? Wishing what?"

"Well it's not really my place. There are… procedures to follow."

"Procedures? What kind of procedures?"

"Look, Son. Seeing me is not going to be the only unusual thing that happens to you tonight. You will have some other… visitors… who have some important things to tell you."

"Visitors? What kind of visitors? Who's coming to see me?"

"I can't really say. That's kind of up to you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't overthink it, kid. It'll all make sense. Or at least sorta make sense."

"How is any part of this going to make sense? I'm seeing you. Right now. How is that ever going to make sense?"

Walt just smiled sadly and put his arm around Nick, turned him, and began walking him towards the door.

"Just… don't overthink it, son. Maybe it makes sense, maybe it doesn't. But in the end, you're going to hear and see some things you need to hear. That I need you to see."

"Doesn't sound like I have much choice in the matter."

"Good thing, too. Something tells me you wouldn't be too excited to get into what's coming your way."

"That's probably accurate."

"And avoiding your problems? That's another little something you got from your old man. And it's something I'd like to take back."

Walt stopped in front of the door, took his arm from Nick, and slowly turned to face him. He stood silently for a moment, looking at the floor, before finally raising his head to look Nick in the eye.

"I uh… got to get going Nicky. Unfortunately, they don't give you a lot of time for these things."

"They?"

"Forget it. Not something you'll have to worry about for a long, long while. If at all."

Nick stood looking at the face of his father. Exactly as he remembered him. He'd been so confused and shaken by his father's arrival that he hadn't really absorbed the fact that this visit was a temporary thing. The realization settled in as he looked at his father's face, unsure if he'd ever be seeing it again. His heart began thumping in his chest as he tried to fight the emotion building inside.

"Where… where are you going?" Nick managed.

"No, no," Walt said, shaking his head. "Not something you need to concern yourself with. You just listen to your… guests… when they get here. Just do that for me. Okay?"

"Sure, but…"

"No, not 'sure'. How about a 'Yes, Dad'?"

"Yes, Dad", Nick laughed. The laugh belied the tears that were forming in his eyes. "So… will I be seeing you anytime soon? Or, anytime again… ever?"

"I don't think so, Nicky. At least not for a long, long time."

Nick swallowed hard and pressed his lips together. He hadn't been prepared for any of this, let alone prepared for an opportunity to actually say goodbye to his father. Walt looked at his son as though reading his mind.

"It's okay, son. You won't be seeing me, but I'll be seeing plenty of you. You understand? We may never talk like this again, but I want you to know that I'm never too far away."

Nick nodded and smiled a humorless smile.

"Dad, I…"

Walt interrupted Nick by grabbing his shoulders and bringing him in for a hug. Nick felt small in his father's arms, and the familiar smell of his knock off cologne brought Nick memories of his childhood. He felt  
saddened and comforted all at the same time. They held the embrace for a good while before Walt broke the silence.

"You better keep an eye on that candle, kid. It's burning pretty low."

Nick broke the embrace and turned to look at the candle. It was lopsided and misshapen, but it probably had a few more hours left to burn.

"Looks fine to me, Dad."

Nick turned back to face his father, but he was gone. He took a few quick glances around the room, but he knew he was alone. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself a bit. His father was never really good at goodbyes. Nick took a deep breath before collapsing on the bed. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling for a few moments, recounting what had just happened. He didn't get very far into his thoughts before a gentle knock came at the door. Nick sat up on the bed, and immediately thought about the 'visitors' his father said he would be getting that night. Once again, Nick stared at the wood grain pattern on his door, and expectedly waited for another apparition to appear. After a few moments, nothing. After a few more moments, another gentle rap at the door. Nick got to his feet and he apprehensively walked towards the door. He put his hand on the doorknob as he leaned forward, placing his ear to the door. Hearing nothing, he straightened up and closed his eyes.

"Well, if this is gonna happen, it's gonna happen," he said to himself. He took a deep breath, and flung the door open, not knowing what to expect.

Standing on the other side of the door was a woman, dressed head to toe in a long, white evening gown. Nick took a step back to allow his guest entry into his room. As she entered, the candle light attached to her, and he instantly recognized the dark, wide eyes and heavy bangs that framed her face.

"Hey there, Nick. You ready to do this thing?" a familiar voice asked.

"Cece?"

The woman raised her eyebrows and gave a slight shrug.

"Something like that."


	3. Chapter 3

**Yikes. This one got on top of me a bit. Probably could've made it two chapters, but... oh well. Really hope you enjoy it (if you make it through the whole thing). It's probably getting redundant, but thanks again for all the supportive comments and for taking the time. **

Nick shook his head and sighed. He hadn't really had time to contemplate who his 'visitors' might be, or how quickly they would be doing their visiting. He was pretty sure, however, that an almost immediate visit from some representation of Cece wouldn't have crossed his mind.

"So, Something-Like-Cece," he said, still shaking his head. "You're looking… well."

"Yeah, well… you know," she replied, looking a little bored. "Model, right?"

"Right on. I would like to thank you for knocking. It's a little less unsettling that simply morphing through the door and appearing out of thin air."

"Just common courtesy, really. Besides, I wasn't sure what kind of state you'd be in. Not really interested in catching a glimpse of your… unmentionables. Nice robe, by the way."

"Fair enough," Nick grimaced. "So, when you say you're 'Something like Cece', what exactly…"

"Best not to overthink it, Nick. Me and… the others… it's not really about us. It's about what we tell you. What we show you. So just pay attention, okay?"

"Yeah, but…"

"For real, Nick. Just go with it. "

"You got it."

They stood awkwardly a moment. Nick wasn't what he considered a deep thinker, but when told explicitly not to think about something, he didn't see how it would be possible to think about anything else. Especially under such unusual circumstances. After all, he had just conversed with his dead father, and now here he was, standing in his Mom's house in Chicago, talking to what appeared…

"What did we just decide, Nick?" Cece scolded.

"Well I'm sorry, this is weird. How can I…"

"How bout we get started?" Cece snapped back. "That should keep your mind occupied. Nick, we're going downstairs. You lead the way."

"Downstairs?"

"Yep."

"I lead the way?"

"Yep."

"Why am I not excited about this."

"Don't know, don't care. This is happening. Move it," Cece said, jabbing Nick in the chest.

Nick whimpered as he reached for the candle on his nightstand. He nodded as he passed Cece and made his way through the doorway. She followed a few steps behind as he crept through the hallway, careful not to wake anyone. They slowly descended the stairs, past the family photos that hung on the wall. As they reached the bottom of the stairs and turned past the Christmas tree, Nick noticed that the tree was somehow lit. Not only that, but there was a glow coming from outside the living room window, as though the sun was getting ready to rise. But that was impossible, he thought. It couldn't be much after 11 pm. He stopped and turned to ask Cece what time it was, but he was interrupted by his mother's voice coming from the kitchen.

"What is my mom doing up?" Nick asked to himself. He looked at Cece. "How am I going to explain you? Mom knows about Jess, so…"

"I wouldn't worry about it. Just keep going."

Nick moved on towards the kitchen. The lights were on and there was, indeed, light coming through the window over the sink. Something else was different, too. Something Nick couldn't put his finger on. There were some new dirty dishes in the sink, and he could smell what he guessed was his mom's usual Christmas breakfast: a sausage, potato, and egg frittata baking away in the oven. In the opposite doorway of the kitchen he saw his mother, facing away from them. She wore the same faded yellow robe she'd worn as long as he could remember. Nick blew out the candle, and set it on the counter.

"Hey ma," Nick started. "I want to introduce you to my friend, Cece. Emphasis on 'friend'."

Bonnie didn't reply. Upon closer inspection, Nick could see she was talking on the phone, the cord stretching a good four feet from the wall mount to where Bonnie stood, her back to Nick and Cece.

"What do you mean you aren't going to be here in time?" Bonnie said to into the phone. "The kids are going to be up any minute now, and there is almost nothing under the tree. You were supposed to…"

Bonnie trailed off and listened to the person on the end of the line. She ran her fingers over the back of her head and began shaking her head.

"You what? The dog track? You said you had an in at the department store. You said they 'owed you'. You said they were going to let you in after close so you could buy…"

Bonnie again stopped to listen before dropping her hand from her head and resting her head on the door frame.

"I don't want your excuses. I can't believe you. And I can't even talk to you right now. I have to… I don't know.  
Come up with something. Just get yourself right, straighten up, and get home when you can."

With that Bonnie walked over to the wall mount and hung the phone up. She placed her hands on the kitchen counter near the phone and hung her head silently.

Nick started towards his Mom, but Cece reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"Don't touch her, Nick. We're just here to observe."

"Observe? What is going on here?"

Bonnie straightened up, turned, and walked right past Nick and Cece without a word and went into the living room. Nick followed, confused. Cece again stopped him, giving him a stern look. Nick shook her off and called after his Mom.

"Ma, who was that on the phone. What's got you so upset?"

Bonnie paid him not attention and walked over to the closet and open the door. She stood on her tip toes and grabbed two presents off the top shelf. She brought the presents down and examined them. Again, she shook her head angrily.

"Cece, what's going on? Why isn't she talking to me?"

"Look more closely, Nick."

"What do you…"

"Just… take a closer look."

Nick did as he was told. As his mother moved quickly over to the Christmas tree, Nick slowly approached her. She laid the presents under the tree and looked at them thoughtfully. Nick took the moment to examine his mother's face, and as he did so, it began to dawn on him. His mother's hair was different. A little darker, a little curlier, and her face was a good deal thinner. The smile lines that had become etched into her face were also somehow lighter, less dramatic. And the bags under her wet eyes were also less notable. She looked 20 years younger. She looked 20 years younger because she was 20 years younger. With that, Nick took a step back, and turned to Cece.

"What is this, Cece?" Nick pleaded.

"Just keep watching," Cece said. Her disposition had changed. She was no longer bored or forceful. Her eyes had softened, and her voice lowered to a comforting, supportive tone. "If you haven't figured it out yet, you will in about five seconds."

Nick turned back to his mother, who knelt beside the tree, looking sadly at the presents she had brought down from the closet. The only two presents under the tree. She closed her eyes, deep in thought. She was quickly interrupted by a voice from upstairs.

"Get up! Get up! It's Christmas!" a child shouted excitedly.

Bonnie stood up and wiped the tears away with the palms of her hands. Above them, Nick heard the stomping and running of little feet. They travelled down the hallway to the staircase, and down the steps flew a strangely familiar boy of about 6, clad in green Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles pajamas, wearing an enormous smile.

"He came!" The little boy shouted. "He came!"

"Now hang on a second," Bonnie said. "Wait for your brother."

Nick closed his eyes. It had all come together. He was fully aware of what he was seeing now. He didn't know how it was possible, but he knew what it was.

"Hurry up, Nicky! Santa came! We have presents!"

Nick looked over to the stairs and saw a boy of about 8 slowly and unenthusiastically coming down the stairs. The boy wore a blue flannel robe and brown slippers. A Nick Miller staple to this very day. As he got to the living room, he folded his arms across his chest and surveyed the scene, unimpressed.

"Where's Dad?" young Nick asked his mother.

Bonnie looked sadly at the boy.

"Your Dad had to go into work early this morning. Last minute thing. Couldn't be helped. He'll be home tonight, hopefully in time for dinner."

"Yeah right," young Nick said, rolling his eyes. "Well, let's get this over with."

Bonnie reached out and ruffled his hair as he walked by and took a seat next to his brother in front of the tree.

"Go ahead Jamie, you first," he said.

"Thanks Nicky!"

Jamie tore into his present energetically. Within seconds, the wrapping paper was left in a shredded heap next to him, as he excitedly examined his gift.

"Mr. Potato Head!" he exclaimed. He grinned up at Bonnie who forced a smile back. "Your turn, Nicky!"

Young Nick picked up his present and slowly unwrapped it. He looked at the box and read it aloud.

"Senor Potato Face. Hmm," he said, looking up at Bonnie. "Guess we have a backup, huh?"

He got up and started towards the stairs. Bonnie softly grabbed him by the arm and crouched beside him. She pulled him in for a hug, and whispered into his ear: "He'll make this up to you, Nicky. I promise." He hugged his mother back and slowly disappeared up the stairs while his mother watched.

In the living room, Nick turned to Cece.

"Banner year at the old Miller house, eh?" he said.

"Well, your brother seems pretty happy," Cece replied, gesturing towards little Jamie as he opened the box.

"Yeah, well you just wait," he said, turning back to the scene.

They both watched as little Jamie dumped the contents of the box out onto the floor. A solid piece of plastic shaped something like a potato fell out with a large thump. Jamie looked at the floor, and then looked inside the empty box.

"Where are all the parts?" he asked frantically? "The shoes? The eyes? The noses?"

Bonnie went over to Jamie and took the box from him. She flipped the box over and over in her hands, but it was of no use. Another one of Walt's failed schemes. She should've known better.

"I'm… I'm sorry Jamie," she said. "Sometimes even Santa makes mistakes."

Little Jamie picked up his lump of brown plastic and looked at it closely. After a moment his eyes began to fill with tears as he looked up at his mother, confused.

"Was… was I bad?" he asked.

"Of course not, Jamie. You're a good boy."

Bonnie scooped Jamie up and carried him into a nearby rocking chair and settled into it. She held him close to her. Close enough so that he couldn't see her own tears.

"Santa's just really, really busy. You know, it probably wasn't even him. It was probably one of his elves."

Bonnie stroked Jamie's hair and began to slowly rock him, an attempt to soothe herself as much as her son. As she rocked, young Nick came slowly down the stairs. He held up a finger to his nose, alerting his mother to be quiet. As she looked on curiously, her oldest son made his way over to the Christmas tree. He reached into his robe and produced a jagged, poorly wrapped present. He got on his knees and pushed the present under the tree, making sure it went toward the back where it was hard to see. He stood up and looked at his mother.

"Hey Jamie," he said. "I think I see another present.

Jamie's head lifted from his mother's shoulder and he turned skeptically towards his brother.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure if it's for you or me, but I need you to crawl under there to see. I'm too big."

Jamie hopped off his mother's lap and walked towards the tree, wiping his eyes and nose with the back of his hand as he did so. He crawled under the tree, pulled out the present, and handed it to his brother.

"Aw, man," young Nick said. "It says it's for you. Rats."

"Really?" Jamie said excitedly.

"Yep," Nick said, handing the gift back to his brother. "Go ahead, open it."

Bonnie got up and walked behind her oldest son, putting her hands on his shoulders. They both watched as Jamie tore into his present. Within seconds, the poorly wrapped toy was revealed: a not so shiny red and blue truck.

"Holy Cow!" Jamie said. "It's Optimus Prime! He's the best one!"

Jamie held the toy high above his head and smiled widely at his brother and mother. He sat down on the floor and started to tinker with it, trying to figure out how to turn it into a robot. As he busied himself with the transformer, Bonnie pulled young Nick to her body, and hugged him tightly from behind.

"Hey Nicky, don't you have one of these? Go get it and we can fight them!"

"I can't, Jamie. I lost mine a few weeks ago. I took it into school for show and tell and I think someone took it. It's okay, I was kind of done with in anyway."

"That's too bad," Jamie said, completely captivated with his new toy. "I guess I wasn't that bad after all, huh ma?"

"Nope. Like I said, you're a good boy, Jamie. A very good boy," Bonnie said. She crouched down and turned young Nick to face her. "And you… you are such a good boy."

"Lot of good it did me," he replied, stone faced.

"Nicky…" Bonnie started.

"It's okay, Ma. It is what it is" he said, turning and walking to the closet.

"Where are you going?" Bonnie asked.

"I'm just gonna go shovel the walk," he replied, pulling a coat and hat from the closet. He slipped off his robe and put his arms into the coat. He pulled a pair of enormous boots out and sat down to put them on. "I don't want Aunt Ruthie to slip when she comes over. I'm guessing Dad didn't' have time to shovel. You know… before he went into work," he said with a frown.

"You don't have to do that," Bonnie said.

"It's fine," he said, standing up. "I want to do it.? He forced a smile before disappearing out the front door.

Bonnie stood standing for a moment, watching Jamie play with his new toy as the sound of a shovel scraping concrete came from outside the door. She slowly made her way towards the door.

From across the room, Nick took the scene in. He was startled by Cece, who leaned into him and spoke.

"That was a really nice thing you did for your brother."

"Yeah, well... I think he ends up breaking that thing in like a week." He let out a sigh and turned to Cece, smirking. "Like I said. Banner year. And people wonder why I don't get into the Christmas spirit."

"Oh?" Cece said. "What changed?"

"What do you mean 'what changed'. I'm like, 8 here. I've never been one with the Christmas spirit. At least not as long as I remember."

"Hmm."

"Hmm, what?"

"I want you to take a closer look, and then I want you to think about what you just said."

"What? Why? What are…"

"No questions, Nick. Just do it. Come on, look at your brother's face."

Nick and Cece slowly approached little Jamie and crouched down. The boy was grinning ear to ear as he fiddled with his transformer. Once he had the toy converted into full robot mode, he picked up his Senor Potato Face and had them square off. Mimicking gunfire, explosions, and cries of agony, Jamie quickly led Optimus Prime to a swift defeat of the nefarious Senor Potato Face. And he laughed and smiled all the way throughout.

"So, maybe he does break it in a week," Cece said. But something tells me it was a pretty fun week. And you can't tell me you didn't make his day."

"Fine," Nick frowned and shrugged his shoulders. "I did a nice thing for my kid brother and he was happy for a few hours. So?

"So we're not done," Cece said standing up. She pulled Nick to his feet, and the walked towards Bonnie who was still at the doorway.

"What is she doing?" Nick asked.

"Shh, just watch."

Bonnie was peering through the small window in the door, watching young Nick shovel the walkway to the house. As the young child struggle with the task at hand, his mother watched on. She smiled at the scene before her, as tears began streaming down her face.

"How did I get so lucky," she muttered to herself, shaking her head. "Such a good boy." She turned from the door and walked across the living room towards the kitchen, stopping to rustle Jamie's hair along the way. Before disappearing into the kitchen, she looked over the room one last time, and smiled.

"You see? You didn't just make Jamie's day, you made your mother's day as well," Cece smiled.

"I don't know about all that," Nick said, folding his arms.

"Come on, Nick."

"What?"

"Give yourself a little credit for once. That woman's husband, your father, blew your family's Christmas money at the dog track! And yet, there she is, smiling at her children. I mean, if that happened to me, I would've ended the day in handcuffs, probably in line for a very lengthy prison stay. But your mom? She's happy. Because of you. Your brother? Happy. Because of you."

"And what about the kid out there shoveling snow?" Nick exclaimed. "How happy do you think he is right now?"

"You were 8, Nick. You were too young to appreciate what you'd just done. You were probably just pissed at your Dad."

"Damn right I was."

"And that's okay," Cece said, putting her hands on Nick's arms to keep him calm. "He deserved it. But that doesn't change the fact that you were kind, selfless, and you straight up saved Christmas for your brother and mother. Maybe you were too young to take satisfaction in it back then, but that's not the case anymore."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really."

"And what makes you say that?"

"Alright, then. Stop two it is," Cece said, exasperated.

"Stop two?"

"Yep. Stop two down memory lane," she said, grabbing him by the arm.

"What are you doing?"

"Seriously? Will you stop asking questions?"

Cece grabbed the handle of the front door and flung it open. She turned Nick so that his back was to the door before planting both hands in his chest and giving him a mighty push.

"You are surprisingly strong," Nick cried as he fell backwards to the ground.

He shut his eyes as he braced for the fall. When he opened them again, he lay staring up at a dark sky. As he blinked his eyes, Cece's face appeared above him, staring down.

"You okay?" she asked, grabbing his arm and lifting him to his feet.

"Yeah."

"Sorry to get rough, just gotta keep this thing moving."

Nick shook his head a bit before looking around. Not only was it night again, but the snow that had accumulated of the past few days was gone. He also noticed that the temperature had probably risen about 25 degrees, and while his robe wasn't keeping him toasty warm, he wasn't chattering away like he should've been. He looked around at the houses. They were bigger than the houses in his neighborhood, and the yards were impeccably manicured. He also took note of a large inflatable Frosty the Snowman that sat in the middle of one yard, and a trio of nutcracker soldiers that stood in another.

"This place looks familiar," he said, looking around.

Just then, he saw headlights coming slowly down the street. Cece started walking towards the car, and motioned for him to join her. After a moment of hesitation, he did just that. Just as he caught up with Cece, she stopped. He stood beside her as the car drew closer. It was a dark blue Volvo, almost exactly like the one Jess used to drive.

"Making sense now?" Cece asked. "From memory lane…"

"Are you kidding?"

"…to Candy Cane Lane."

Nick looked at the car as the doors opened. He watched Jess, Schmidt, Winston, Cece, and, of course, himself pour from the vehicle.

"So," Cece said. "Do you remember how we ended up here? The first time, I mean?"

"Sure," Nick said. "I messed up things with Jess and Paul. I owed her."

"I think it's time for you to be honest with me. And, more importantly, to start being honest with yourself."

Nick watched as Schmidt, Cece, and Winston wandered to the middle of the road. He shook his head as he watched himself and Jess walk to the front of the car and lean back on the hood.

"You know how this scene goes, Nick. We don't have much time. Why did you blow off your flight? Why did you take everyone to Candy Cane Lane?"

"Because, I needed to make things right with her."

"And?"

Nick looked closely at he and Jess, studying the disappointment on her face.

"And I wanted to make her happy. I wanted to see her smile."

"You don't say?" Cece said, grinning back at Nick. "Well, mission accomplished, I'd say."

Nick stood and watched the familiar scene play out before his eyes. As he watched himself walk up to the door of one of the houses, Cece grabbed at his arm and softly pulled him towards Jess.

"Look at her, Nick."

Nick stared at Jess' face. Not something he was likely to ever get tired of.

"Excuse me," he heard his own voice say from behind him. "We've got a girl out here who'd really like to see the lights!"

He kept his eyes on Jess, and watched as her face expressed, within seconds, what seemed like a dozen different complex emotions. From the initial disappointment, to confusion, to excitement, and happiness. But what struck Nick the most was the way she looked over at him as he harassed the neighborhood. He saw not just appreciation, but a glimmer of something he couldn't define. And for a split second, he thought he saw her tear up a bit. She blinked the tears away and looked around again before joining the others.

"Turn on your lights!"

Nick smiled to himself a bit as he looked on. He watched he and his friends literally wake up the neighborhood as the Christmas lights started popping on, house by house.

"So," Cece said, stepping in front of Nick. "Are you going to tell me you didn't take any satisfaction out of that?"

Nick just stood silently staring at her.

"You missed your flight, right? And all for what? We leave after, what, two minutes? All that for two minutes?"

"Yeah, but look at her," Nick said, staring at Jess.

"So, you're saying it was worth it?"

Nick nodded to himself and looked down at the ground, then back at a smiling Cece.

"Absolutely."

"Good," Cece said, patting him on the back. "Try not to forget that."

Nick watched as his group of friends started hugging hand high-fiving.

"I'll see what I can do," he said. He turned to where Cece had been standing, but she was gone.

He spun a quick 360, but she was nowhere in sight. He smirked to himself and looked back at the scene before him.

"Now stop yelling before I call the cops!" a voice shouted from one of the houses. They all started moving towards the car. As they climbed in, Nick suddenly became aware that he was now alone. Cece had left him, and here he was, an invisible entity stuck on Candy Cane Lane from two years previous. As the though sunk in, he watched the car pull away. His eyes followed until it was out of sight. He stood alone in the middle of the street. But not for long.

Nick took half a step back and bumped into a figure. He spun quickly to see the face of Schmidt, grinning widely.

"Nicholas… my man," Schmidt said, offering a high five. He stood before Nick, dressed in the same dark jacket and checkered shirt he was wearing on Candy Cane Lane.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me. You? You're next?"

"You know it," Schmidt said. "Don't leave me hanging, bro."

Nick shrugged and halfheartedly slapped Schmidt's hand.

"That's a C-, Nick. Poor effort out of you."

Schmidt looked down at his watch, and back up at Nick.

"Looks like Cecilia took her sweet time with you, so we are running a tiny bit behind schedule."

"Can't wait."

"Good to hear. Because we gotta get moving. And you know what they say?"

"What's that, Schmidt?"

Schmidt smiled widely again as a mischievous look crossed his face. "There's no time like…. The Present!"


	4. Chapter 4

Nick stood and stared blankly at Schmidt, who just smiled and blinked back at him.

"I said, there's not time like the present. See… see what I … did… there…" Schmidt tailed off.

"No, I got it, Schmidt. As subtle and nuanced as it was, I got it."

Nick tightened the belt on his robe and turned away from Schmidt. He took a look around Candy Cane Lane and spotted a display in a nearby yard that featured a big red sleigh being pulled by a pair of happy reindeer. He made his way over to the sleigh as Schmidt watched on.

"Nick, we really don't have time to dally. I'm not kidding when I say we're on a bit of a schedule."

"Well, amend the freaking schedule, then" Nick said, taking a seat on the sleigh. "I need a few minutes here, and you're going to give them to me."

Schmidt again checked his watch before taking a look around. He shrugged his shoulders and started walking towards the house behind Nick's sleigh.

"Okay, I suppose that's fair. I actually, uh, have to figure out the best way to get where we're going anyway," he said. He stopped in front of the front door before trying the handle and giving a slight push. The handle didn't turn and the door didn't budge. "So… yeah, go ahead and take five," he called out before moving along to the house next door.

Nick stretched out on the sleigh and laid back, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. He looked up at the stars in the dark sky and tried to focus on what had actually been happening to him this night. But he couldn't get very far. His mind just kept coming back to Jess. It was true, he had done a good job of convincing himself that the first trip to Candy Cane Lane was merely to make things right with Jess after sticking his nose in her business with Paul. But after being afforded the opportunity to 'see' her reaction to his good deed, he couldn't lie to himself anymore. Truth was, it hadn't taken him long to be won over by the unusual girl that moved in across the hall. And, despite coming out of his own devastating failure of a relationship, he had almost immediately found a desire to help her. To make her smile. To take care of her. Truth is, the only reason it took him as long as it did to make a legitimate move on those feelings was his own feelings of inadequacy. After all, who was he but a rudderless, chubby, grouchy, bartender with a few questionable habits of cleanliness. What we he going to offer?

Nick sat up and looked around for Schmidt. After a few moments, he spied him, trying the side door to large house with green shutters about three down from Nick and his sleigh. He attempted to focus on the question of where he was and who this particular 'Schmidt' was, but again, his mind refused to focus. Instead, he replayed the scene from Candy Cane Lane. The look of happiness on Jess' face. The look he put on it. He started to think about…

"Times up, Nick," Schmidt called from the green shuttered house. "Seriously, rules are rules. We have to get going."

Nick tried for a moment to continue his thought, but it was of no use. He rose from the sleigh and began walking towards Schmidt. As he joined him at the front door to the house, he stretched his arms out over his head before giving his face a few mild slaps.

"Ok, let's do this."

"That's the spirit, Nick. Now, I'm going to need your help. The door is a bit jammed, but I think we can jar it open if we just give it a little bump. Here, I'll keep a handle on the knob and push, and at the count of three, just… you know… ram it with your shoulder. That should do it."

"Whatever you say, man," Nick said, stepping back. "Your world."

"Ah, you're starting to get the hang of this, I see. Good work. Okay, here we go. One… two… three!"

Nick lowered his shoulder and stepped hard towards the door. Schmidt flicked the doorknob and nudged it open just before Nick got there. As a result, Nick went flying through the door, tumbling into the dark house.

"Oh, whoops. My bad," Schmidt mumbled, unconvincingly.

Nick landed face down in the house. As he pushed himself up from the ground to confront Schmidt, his eyes briefly went blurry, and his head went dizzy. He stumbled and grasped for something to steady himself on, eventually settling on Schmidt's shoulders.

"Easy now, just let it happen," Schmidt said reassuringly.

Nick held onto Schmidt with one hand as he rubbed his eyes with the other. As he did so, he noticed the sounds of low jazz music, the clinking of dishes, and the buzz of several different conversations. After a moment, the room started to get brighter, and objects around him started taking shape. He quickly realized that he was in a small, crowded restaurant. To his right, small, round white tables peppered the dimly lit dining room. Long, thin candles providing soft light shot up from the center of each table. Far to his left, a large window allowed a view into a sterling silver kitchen, bustling with a dozen or so men and women dressed in black chef jackets.

"Okay, so where are we now?" Nick asked, noticing for the first time what was behind Schmidt. Nick's eyes went wide as the floor to ceiling windows opposite the kitchen revealed a magnificent cityscape. Dozens of skyscrapers rising through the night sky, half illuminated. After admiring the view for a moment, Nick turned back to Schmidt.

"Schmidt, where the hell are we?"

"Only the finest restaurant in New York City, Nicholas. A place where the wait for a reservation is a month, and the pre fixe meals start at $300 a person on a normal night, Per Se."

"Wait, what?"

"Per Se? You've never heard of it? You're kidding. Per Se?"

"Stop saying per se, you're using it wrong. I think."

"But that's what it's called, Nick. The restaurant is called 'Per Se'. Chef Thomas Kellor's masterstroke, Zagat's best restaurant in New York City," Schmidt pause and extended his arm, as if to present the room to Nick. "Behold."

"It's… nice," Nick said, pulling his robe closer around his neck.

"Nice? Nice?" Schmidt said, getting angry.

"Fine, very nice," Nick said, still fumbling with his robe. "Gotta say, I know it probably doesn't matter, but I'm feeling a little underdressed."

"Oh, Nick. They cannot see us. Naturally…"

"Yeah, no. I get that, but still…"

"You think I'd be showing up dressed like this if we could actually be seen? Please. Calvin Klein might be OK for your little bar back in LA, but this place? This place is Prada or bust."

Nick stared at Schmidt, shaking his head.

"What?" Schmidt asked.

"What are we doing here, Schmidt? Why are we in New York? Why are we at Per Se?"

"Ah, back to business. Right on," Schmidt said, grabbing Nicks arm and guiding him through the dining room. "Well, we both know what you're up to this Christmas Eve. But it's time to take a look at what the most important person in your life is doing tonight."

Nick stopped in his tracks, grabbing Schmidt and turning him to face him.

"Wait, what is Jess doing in New York" he asked. "She's supposed to be in…"

"Hold perfectly still, Nick," Schmidt said, a look of concern crossing his face. Nick froze, alarmed by Schmidt's reaction. After a second, one of the restaurant's servers moved past Nick, carrying a bottle of wine to a nearby table. Nick was relieved when he noticed Schmidt's face had relaxed.

"What the hell…"

"Yeah, we should probably be careful here. Keep your head on a swivel. We don't want you physically touching anyone while we're here."

"Okay. Do you mind if I ask why?"

"Oh you can ask, I just can't answer. Because I don't exactly know. So… best to just not let it happen, kapeesh?" Schmidt said, slapping Nick on the shoulder. "But anyway, back to your question. Gotta say, I'm a little hurt," he continued, grabbing Nick and turning him slight to face a nearby table. "We aren't here to see Jess. We're here to see… me."

"Are you kidding?" Nick said.

Sure enough, sitting before him at a two top in front of a glass of white wine was Schmidt. He was decked out in a sharp, finely tailored navy suit with a matching navy blue vest and tie. He looked around the bar nervously before taking a sip of his wine.

"Okay," Nick sighed. "You mind telling me why we're here? Why I'm watching you sit at a fancy restaurant in New York? Am I supposed to feel sorry for you being alone on Christmas Eve? I mean, not to bring religion into it, but this isn't exactly your thing."

"Well, Nicholas. You're only kind of here to see me. Mostly, you're here to see… her," Schmidt said pointing.

As Nick turned, a tall, leggy blonde in a small green dressed was being led toward Schmidt's table by the Maître D'.

"I'm so sorry," the woman said. "I had the time wrong. I could've sworn we said…"

"Not to worry," Schmidt said, standing up. "It happens. I'm Schmidt, so nice to finally meet you."

As New York Schmidt walked around the table to pull out the chair for his date, 'Sort of' Schmidt put his arm around Nick and smiled widely.

"Schmitty still got it, eh? I mean, look at her."

"Yes, she's very attractive, Schmidt, but what…"

"Very attractive? On a scale of 1-10, she's a 24. My mom set me up. Apparently she's a tennis pro. Instructs my Mom and some of her gin soaked friends down at the country club. For once my Mom's wandering eye is doing me some good."

"Well, that's fantastic Schmidt. Good for you. Now, I ask again, what the hell are we doing here?"

"What? Just because it's Christmas Eve doesn't mean we can't score one for the Semites. By the way, she didn't get the time wrong. I lied. But now, she feels like she owes me. The night is off to a rocking start. And hopefully, that will mean it ends with a rocking start, if you catch my drift."

"Yeah, got it," Nick said. "Tell me, how is it going to end with a start?"

"Well, because… you see… I…."

Nick just stood and smirked

"You know what I mean, Nick. FYI, she doesn't know it yet, but I've already ordered the app. Beach Point Oysters and White Sturgeon Caviar. It's a, it's an aphrodisiac. I will not fail."

"Well, congratulations Schmidt. Shall we pull up a chair and join you?"

Schmidt rolled his eyes and let his posture sink a bit. He took another look at his date for the evening and frowned.

"Of course not. We actually do have another stop to make. I just thought, you know, you'd be happy to know your best friend is simply crushing it on this holiest of nights."

"Well, sure. I feel really good about that, pal. What else are the holidays for?" Nick said sarcastically, slapping Schmidt on the back. "You just let me know when you're ready to get moving."

"Fine," Schmidt pouted. "Recess is over. Back to work."

"Thank you."

Schmidt quickly glanced around the restaurant before deciding the best exit strategy. He gestured for Nick to follow him, and they carefully navigated the restaurant, exiting the large dining room through large, glass doors into an expansive, marble lobby. Schmidt led Nick past an elevator bay, stopping just on the other side in front of what appeared to be a door to a service entrance.

"I think this should do the trick," Schmidt said. By now you probably know the drill. You first, I'll be right behind you."

"Well, this won't ever get old, will it?"

"Way to stay positive."

Nick closed his eyes and sighed. After another deep breath, he shook his head, grabbed the door handle, and stepped into darkness. Once inside, he opened his eyes and allowed what turned out to be the familiar setting of the loft to come into focus before him. Nick furrowed his brow, confused, and turned to Schmidt.

"Now what? Are we here to check on the cat or something? See what he's up to?"

"Not exactly," Schmidt said, looking down. He made his way towards the kitchen island, leaving Nick standing between the couch and the hall to the bedrooms. He turned, faced Nick, and sat down, folding his arms in front of him. Before Nick could say anything, he heard the jingling of keys in the door. He turned, and was shocked when Jess came walking through the door, wearing her purple pea coat, dragging a small suitcase behind her, and holding her cellphone to her ear. Nick froze, completely caught off guard, his emotions stuck somewhere between the excitement to be looking at Jess and the confusion as to what she was doing at the loft.

"No, no. You don't need to rush to get back, Cece. I'll be fine," Jess said into the phone. "I'm serious, don't worry. I just walked in the door, we'll see each other in a few days."

"What is she talking about?" Nick said, looking to Schmidt, who just shook his head and gestured for Nick to keep his eyes and ears on Jess.

"I don't know. It was last minute, I guess. Mom and Dad had already made plans with my sister, so it seemed like it shouldn't have been a big deal. Just set out another chair, right?"

Nick's eyes got huge and he once again turned to Schmidt. "Sister?! What sister?!"

Schmidt shrugged, shook his head, and again pointed to Jess.

"Yeah, I should've known better. We just can't… yeah. She just knows how to push my buttons, you know? And my Mom's buttons. And my Dad's buttons. She's just a natural born button pusher," Jess said, propping her suitcase up against the back of the couch. She made her way into the kitchen as Nick followed behind. She grabbed a glass out of the cupboard and set it on the island near Schmidt. She reached into the fridge, grabbed a pitcher of water, and poured it into the glass.

"I just had to get out of there. Maybe if I'd have known. If I'd have had a few more days' notice, I'd have been able to brace myself. I usually don't let her get to me like that. And I can usually keep the peace between Mom and Dad, too. But whenever she's around… Ugh!" Jess said, taking a gulp of water. "As it is, we almost made it through dinner. So… that's progress."

"Few more days' notice?" Nick said to himself. "What is she…"

"I know, you're right, Cece. I should've just said something to him. But he's such a grump about Christmas. And with his dad and all? I don't know. It just didn't feel like he wanted me to go with him."

"What the hell is she talking about?!" Nick said loudly.

"Either way, it's still my fault. I could've talked to Mom and Dad, I could've planned to go up there earlier. I just… I don't know. I still just kind of thought he was going to ask me to go with him."

Jess frowned and set her glass on the island. She listened to Cece for a moment before she sighed and started toward her room.

"To make matters worse, my sister's suddenly on this weird vegan kick. So, what we had of dinner was freaking horrible. Just some burnt root vegetables over some overcooked quinoa. I'm starving, and now I gotta see what's open around here on Christmas Eve."

Nick watched Jess disappear into her room before walking into the kitchen and taking a seat across the island from Schmidt. They sat quietly a few minutes as Nick processed what he'd just heard. Schmidt allowed this, though his patience was clearly wearing thin by the time Nick finally broke the silence.

"Jess has… a sister?"

"A vegan sister, no less."

"Did you know this?"

"Had not a clue."

"I wonder why she's never mentioned her."

"Well, they don't seem to get along particularly well. Guess it's a touchy subject?"

"Still…"

"Yeah, still…"

Nick sat a moment, thinking. He thought back on the days leading up to him leaving for Chicago, and the conversations he and Jess had had about Christmas. He tried to remember if she'd explicitly said she was going to Portland to see her family. He thought hard on it, but he couldn't remember a time when she had. He remembered their near fight about his 'Grinchy-ness', and he carefully recounted the words that were said. He closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck as the realization set in.

"Got a bit of an epiphany going on over there, do ya?" Schmidt said confidently.

"I… I guess," Nick said softly, not looking at Schmidt. "The whole time I just thought about what a pain the holidays were going to be. All the travel, my idiot brother, looking after my mom. I just thought it wasn't going to be a good time for me, let alone Jess. I never stopped to think…"

Nick looked up at Schmidt, who was nodding encouragingly.

"She… she just wanted me to ask her to come with me. That's all. That's all she wanted."

"Ding ding ding."

As Nick's folly sunk in, he heard Jess come back into the room. Before he turned to look at her, he saw a look of utter surprise cross Schmidt's face. Alarmed, Nick spun around and looked at Jess. She had apparently taken out her contacts because she was wearing her giant glasses, and she had pulled her hair out of her face into a simple pony tail. She had also changed from the clothes she had been wearing into light blue pajama bottoms and one of Nick's more threadbare, red flannels. He couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face as his eyes followed her into the kitchen, where she opened the fridge and peered inside.

"Oh… my… God…" Schmidt gasped.

"What is wrong, Schmidt?"

"Is that… Jess' forehead? In two years… I don't think I've ever seen it before!"

"What? What are you…"

"Have you ever seen it before?"

"Yes, Schmidt, I've seen her forehead before. What is wrong with you?"

"I… honestly, I wasn't even sure she had eyebrows."

"I swear to God, Schmidt, yours or mine…"

"Whoa, easy there. There's nothing wrong with it. It's a fine forehead. I'm just… surprised to see it, that's all."

Nick scowled and looked back at Jess. She shut the door to the fridge and walked around to the cupboard, peeking inside. She then closed the cupboard door, put her hands on her hips, and frowned. She looked back at the fridge and pulled a piece of paper out from behind a magnet that was holding it in place. She set the paper on the island next to Nick, pulled her phone from her pajama pocket, and dialed.

"Oh no," Nick said. "Oh no, Jess."

"If you can't beat 'em…" Jess muttered, holding the phone to her ear.

"No, Jess, not Hop-Foos…"

"Hi, yes. Um, are you guys still delivering tonight? Great, I'd like an order of the Peking Duck, and an order of the wonton soup. Sure, I'll hold."

"What have I done? I am such an ass."

"Great, thank you," Jess said, hanging up. She set her phone on the table before she sat down on the empty stool beside Nick. She put her elbows on the table, and rested her chin in her hands. Her eyes moved deliberately around the empty loft, and Nick could see the sadness behind them. She looked down at her phone before reaching down and softly sliding her finger across it. She poked at her phone a little more as Nick looked over her shoulder. He saw her go to her recent calls list, and tap Nick's name. This brought up a picture of Nick chugging a Heisler. It was taken during a game of True American, a game from before they were anything but roommates. Jess smiled sadly before sniffing and turning the phone off. She swallowed hard and stood up. Nick watched as she walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a cheap bottle of Rose. She started towards the cupboard to get a glass, but stopped in her tracks. Instead, she just shrugged, unscrewed the cap on the wine, and shuffled off toward the couch.

Nick watched on sadly. As Jess plopped on the couch and reached for the remote, Nick dropped his head.

"Are we about donr here?" he asked.

"What's that?"

"Are we done here? I don't really want to see much more."

Schmidt nodded and looked somberly back at Nick. "Yeah, we're about done."

Nick lifted his head to look towards Jess, but she was gone. The living room was empty, and the TV was off.

"Just like that, eh?" Nick said, looking at Schmidt. "Just you and me again, huh?"

"Not exactly," a voice said loudly, mere inches from Nick's ear. He was so taken by surprise that he went tumbling from his stool, landing unceremoniously in a heap on the kitchen floor. Nick groaned and scrambled to get to his knees. He stood, facing Schmidt, who was trying (but failing) to suppress a laugh. Nick spun quickly to identify the culprit behind him.

"Ha-Ha! Gotcha!" Winston laughed, directly in Nick's face. "You didn't think I was going to let this guy have all the fun, did you?"


	5. Chapter 5

Nick hung his head and sheepishly looked back to the empty living room, instinctively checking to make certain Jess didn't see him fall on his face. His assumption was correct: she was still gone.

"Winston, I'm gonna…" Nick started, angrily.

"You're going to calm down is what you're gonna do, dummy," Winston shot back. He smoothed out the sleeves of his brown leather jacket before continuing. "Schmidt's little unplanned field trip has us way, way behind schedule."

Winston folded his arms as looked disapprovingly at Schmidt, who fidgeted and avoided eye contact.

"I mean, really? Cece had us behind schedule to start, and then you go all the way to New York to take in a little show? What is wrong with you?"

"Look, Nick has had a pretty intense few hours here. I thought he could, you know, use a little boost in morale," Schmidt said with a smile. "I mean, I think we can all get on board with what was going down at Per Se. Am I… am I right?"

Nick stretched out his shoulder and took a seat at the kitchen island, ignoring Schmidt. He couldn't shake the image of Jess alone on Christmas Eve. Wearing his flannel, drinking cheap wine, and probably getting ready to watch whatever God awful rom-com was on Lifetime that night. He was such an idiot. Why hadn't he seen it before? She all but spelled it out for him. He had always just assumed Jess had better things to do for Christmas. He had assumed her spending time in Portland with her family would've been more fun for her. He had assumed she knew he wanted her around, not just for the holiday, but for nearly any other possible reason as well.

"Yeah, looks like it did him a world of good," Winston said to Schmidt. "Just as plucky and full of cheer as usual."

"That's not…" Schmidt started.

"Hush, child. Winnie's got some work to do."

With that, Winston walked around the island and sat directly across from Nick, who took no notice. Winston rolled his eyes and snapped loudly in Nick's face.

"Wake up."

"Was that really necessary?"

"I don't know, Nick. But believe me, the sooner we finish this, the better. It may seem harsh, but you'll thank me in the end."

"What are you, his mother?" Schmidt mocked.

"Schmidt, if you don't zip it…," Winston said. Schmidt raised his hands in surrender and walked slowly into the living room. "Thank you," Winston continued. "Now Nick, I know this is tough, and I know you've been through a lot today. And I know this fool has wasted some of your time, so I'll cut straight to it. By now, you realize what's going on here, and you realize I'm going to show you some things that are… yet to come."

"Like the future? You're the gho…"

"We don't do it like that," Winston interrupted. "And for that reason alone, I'm not going to question why you've subconsciously chosen the black guy to guide you through the big, scary world of the unknown Christmases that are… you know… that haven't happened yet."

"I've chosen? I haven't chosen anything."

"Are you serious, Nick?" Schmidt interjected from across the room.

"Schmidt, don't make me come over there. I got this," Winston said before turning his attention back to Nick. "Yes, Nick. Well, yes and no. Sort of."

"No easy answers here, eh?" Nick asked.

"No, not exactly," Winston smiled. "But it's important that you understand that the things you see here… the things you feel here… they are very, very real."

Nick took a deep breath and slumped in his stool. "Well, okay then. Let's do this. What's next? What kind of magical portal do I have to trip the light fantastic through this time?"

"Actually, I think we can stay right here," Winston replied.

With that, Nick heard the door to the loft slowly swing open. In walked Jess' mother wearing dark glasses and a tan business suit, followed by a very exhausted looking Cece, dragging a set of two large luggage bags behind her.

"Are you sure that was the quickest way to get here?" Joan said. "I don't remember it ever taking that long before. I told Jess I was fine taking a cab if she couldn't come get me. Where is she, anyway?"

"She, uh, had a little late Christmas shopping to do," Cece replied, dropping the bags. She rolled her eyes, shut the door, and wiped her hands on the front of her jeans before smoothing out her green blouse. "She should be home any minute."

"Oh. That's not like Jess. She normally has all that stuff wrapped up by now," Joan said, closing the door behind them. She took two steps into the loft before stopping and wrinkling her forehead. "Well, this place is hardly even decorated! And that tree!"

Joan walked through the living room, followed sullenly by Cece. Nick watched as Joan moved past the sectional towards the window. There she bent over and examined a small, artificial tree about a foot and a half high, merely garnished with a small amount of dull tinsel. The tree hadn't been there before, but nothing was surprising to Nick anymore.

"This thing makes Charlie Brown's tree look like it should be in Times Square!" Joan remarked.

"Jess… didn't have a lot of time to decorate this year. She took on some extra curriculars… I'm sure she'll tell you all about it when she gets here."

"I see," Joan muttered, still looking disapprovingly at the tree. She shrugged her shoulders and turned towards Cece. "Remind me where the ladies room is in the place again?"

"Here, I'll show you," Cece said, and she led Joan down the hall towards the bathroom.

Nick took another look at the tree and frowned as Schmidt rejoined them at the island. Nick nodded his head with understanding and looked at Winston.

"Let me guess. My lack of Christmas spirit has rubbed off on Jess, right? She no longer loves Christmas, she no longer thinks it's the most wonderful time of the year, right?"

"Well…" Winston started.

"Winston, could I… have a moment with you? Alone?" Schmidt said, pulling Winston towards his room, only a foot or two further away from Nick.

"What is it, Schmidt?"

"I know this is your show and all, and you're doing just a bang up job. But don't you think… you know… there might be a more effective way to…"

"Schmidt, will you stop telling me how to do my job? You've had your time, and look how you spent it. It's your fault we're behind…"

Schmidt gestured his head towards Nick before turning he and Winston away from him. They spoke quietly, inaudible to Nick for a few moments, going back and forth. Finally, Winston straightened up briefly before sighing and hanging his head. He shook his head at a clearly pleased Schmidt before taking a few steps towards Nick.

"He actually has a point. So… change in plans!" Winston said, slapping Nick on the back.

"Can't wait," Nick said before standing up. "Just point me in the right direction."

"Alright, come on. You're old hat at this by now, let's just use the front door."

Winston led as Nick and Schmidt followed to the door to the loft. Nick stopped and pulled his arms down behind his back in an effort to stretch it out a bit. Winston tried his best to ignore Schmidt, who was clearly pleased with himself.

"Okay, Nick," Winston said. "You first, I'll be right behind."

"What about him?" Nick asked, thumbing towards Schmidt.

"Oh, he's not coming," Winston said. "He's stayed long enough."

"But…" Schmidt started to say.

"You're slowing us down," Winston replied. "You stay."

Schmidt pouted as Nick shrugged and pulled the door wide and stepped through the doorway.

He stood for a moment, eyes shut, just waiting. He had gotten used to this whole thing. At least as used to it as one could become. After a moment, he slowly let his eyes open and adjust. He sensed Winston to his left, and as his eyes focused, he noticed a twin set of dirty urinals off to his right.

"What the… are we in a bathroom?"

"Well, that's one way…"

"Why the hell would you take me to some dirty bathroom, Winston? What exactly is going to go down here? I mean, I've seen a lot of weird stuff tonight, but this…"

"Settle down, man. Settle down. I gotta say, the fact that you don't' recognize this place is a little disappointing, and more than a little alarming."

With that, Winston exited the bathroom through the door to their left. As Nick followed, the familiar red and yellow wall paper, round booths, and stale beer aroma of Clyde's Bar told him exactly where he was.

"I mean, do you ever clean those bathrooms, Nick? There have to be laws, right?"

"Not my job, my man. I'm a dispenser of alcohol, Winston. A pharmacist with no degree, a provider of medication that doesn't require health insurance, a…" Nick stopped, noticing that Winston was not amused.

"Nick."

"No, I don't really clean in there. I just have Big Bob sweep it out a bit and drop some of those pink, cakey things in the urinals from time to time," Nick said. Before Winston could say anymore, he added "But I'm guessing that's not why we are here. Lead on, my good man!"

Winston stared at Nick a moment then started moving him towards the bar. Before they got very far, Nick spotted Schmidt standing off to the side, punching buttons on the jukebox. Nick stopped and looked questioningly at Winston.

"What's he doing here? I thought you grounded him."

"Wrong Schmidt, Nick. Keep your head up."

Nick looked back towards Schmidt and noticed that he was, indeed, dressed differently. His plaid button down and jacket replaced by a grey, fitted suit Nick could only assume cost more than his entire wardrobe. Schmidt shook his head in frustration and turned angrily back to towards the bar.

"Oh come on, Nick. You have no Drake, no Macklemore, no Kanye…. why even bother with this thing."

Nick stood at the jukebox as he watched himself appear from the other side of the mostly empty bar.

"This never stops being weird," he muttered to Winston.

"Shh."

Future Nick shook his head and made his way over to Schmidt, tossing a bar towel over his shoulder as he did so.

"What do you expect, Schmidt? You ever really look at that thing? We haven't updated that since I've been working here. Look, there are actually little tiny records in there."

"Well I'd like to file a complaint."

'I'll tell you what you can file," Nick said with a frown.

"Fine, have it your way, Nicholas. Now top me off," Schmidt said, pushing tumbler with a few ice cubes in it towards Future Nick.

"I think you've had enough, Schmidt. Big night ahead, remember?"

"Right, right. How much longer you got anyway? This place is beyond dead."

Nick shrugged his shoulders and looked around the bar. Outside of Schmidt, the only other customer was an older, white haired gentleman who was near dozing at the end of the bar.

"Not much longer," Nick said. "This guy's son's about to come grab him for dinner. He's been going on about it since he's been here. Dinner at 8pm, presents at 9pm."

"What, is he drunk or something?"

"Nope. Just old."

As Nick and Schmidt looked on, a black phone on the bar in front of Nick started to vibrate. Nick rolled his eyes, took a deep breath, and picked up the phone.

"Old ball and chain, eh?" Schmidt asked.

"How could you tell?"

"Well, you just positively light up when she calls."

"Or texts. Dinner with her Mom in an hour," Nick frowned, shoving his phone in his pocked. "Can't wait!" he added sarcastically.

"Can't be as bad as all that, can it?"

"Yeah, well…." Nick started with no intention of finishing.

Just then, a young man stepped through the door to the bar. He looked to be in his late thirties, wearing a rather unfortunate red Christmas sweater. He glanced around the room a bit before spotting the white haired man at the bar and walked towards him.

"There you are, Dad," he said kindly. "You about ready to go?"

The older man fluttered his eyes before turning to his son, smiling widely. "There's my guy," he said happily. "All set, just let me settle with the young barkeep here…"

"One Heisler and glass of water?" Nick said, smiling. "I think I can handle that. Merry Christmas!"

"Oh why thank you," the old man replied with a wink. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas," his son said with a smile. He put his arm around his Dad, and with that, they were off.

"That was downright Christmassy of you, Nicholas," Schmidt smirked. "There's hope for you, yet."

"Yeah, well… figured I'd get a little in before… you know…" Nick replied sadly.

"You know, it might not be that bad."

"Right…"

"Fine", Schmidt said, standing up. "I'm gonna hit the little boy's room. Think you'll be ready to go in 5?"

"Ready? No. Able? Unfortunately."

Schmidt looked sadly at Nick a moment before moving past Winston and Nick towards the bathroom. As he passed them, Nick turned towards Winston and folded his arms.

"OK, so how long's it been?"

"Hmm?"

"How long? How far into the future are we?"

"Well that hardly matters, Nick. 2 years? 3 years? 4, even."

"Okay, okay. Well, this isn't so terrible. What's supposed to be so scary? That I still work at the bar? You know, contrary to what most of you assume, I actually like being a bartender."

"I know you do," Winston nodded, seriously.

"Oh," Nick said, mildly surprised. "Well then is it because I'm not looking forward to dinner with Joan? I mean, can you blame me? The last holiday we spent together… well…. let's just say, things could get a little awkward."

"Nope, not about Joan, either."

Nick's eyes fell and his posture sank. He looked down at his feet as he realized the only option there was that was left.

"So, Jess and I still haven't figured out this Christmas stuff, eh? Wish I could say I'm surprised."

Nick slumped back against the wall. He took a look around the bar and caught a glimpse of future Nick shutting down some of the lights and pushing around a couple of chairs. As he did so, the phone in his pocket again buzzed, and he again rolled his eyes. He reached down to his pant pocket and tried to silence it through his jeans. After a few unsuccessful attempts at gently turning his phone off, he angrily pulled it from his pocket, dropping it loudly to the floor. He looked down at the phone, completely defeated, before he raised his head, cracked his neck, and knelt down to pick it up. He then stood and disappeared into the darkness of the bar.

"What the…" Nick started.

"We should go," Winston said. "Time's a wasting and we best wrap this up."

"I mean, are things really that… what are you doing," Nick said as he watched Winston start for the door of the women's room.

"Schmidt's in the men's room, probably doing his hair," Winston replied. "Don't want to, you know, risk you two bumping heads. Who knows what could happen."'

"Oh right," Nick said quietly, following Winston in to the ladies' room.

Before the door even shut behind him, Nick could feel his eyes again adjusting to the dim lighting of the loft. He put his hand on Winston's shoulder to steady himself as the room took shape. Before long he spotted Cece and Joan to his right, sitting at the kitchen island chatting. He quickly scanned the room to find Jess sitting by herself on the far corner of the sectional, an untouched glass of Rose sitting on the table in front of her. She was wearing a light blue sweater and jeans, her legs pulled tightly to her chest, her chin resting on her knees. Nick began to walk towards Jess, but Winston stopped him, grabbing his arm and leading him into the kitchen.

"This way, man. This isn't going to be great, but you need to… just watch."

"Got me a little worried," Nick said, but was met with a stern headshake. Winton held his finger to his nose and nodded towards Joan and Cece.

"So, do you know what time she wants to have dinner," Joan quietly asked Cece.

"I don't know, and I don't really want to ask her until she's had at least a little bit of that wine."

"Are things that bad? She seemed a little off on the phone, but I…"

"It's not great."

"I had no idea things were so…"

"How could you."

Nick looked to the floor, and then over to Winston. He started to ask him a question, but was instantly shut down.

"No more questions, Nick. This is it," he said before looking off at nothing in particular.

Nick looked at Winston a moment longer before allowing his eyes to drift to Jess. She sat, unmoving on the couch, just staring off into space. It took everything in Nick's power to not go over and talk to her. To try to comfort her. But he resisted what he reasoned would be a useless gesture anyway. As he stared at Jess, he couldn't help but wonder what could've made things so bad. His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening and Schmidt walking through. Nick, Cece, and Joan looked towards the door, but Jess and Winston didn't move a muscle. Nick didn't take note of this, however, and only looked eagerly at the door, awaiting his own arrival. Awaiting whatever awkwardness between he and Jess was about to play out before him. He looked at Schmidt and the open door for what seemed like minutes before Schmidt simply closed the door behind him and walked into the loft. Nick shot Winston a curious look, but Winston didn't move and continued to look away. Nick folded his arms as Schmidt looked cautiously over at Jess while he approached Cece and Joan.

"Hello, Cecilia," he offered. "Hello, Jess' Mom."

"You remember Schmidt, right? Jess' roommate?"

Joan and Schmidt exchanged nods and Schmidt pulled up a stool at the island.

He swiveled slowly in a complete 360, taking a glance over at Jess in the living room. As he spun back towards the island, he took note of the Christmas tree by the window.

"Well, I see Jess got the decorations up. Thank goodness for that. Otherwise this place would be downright depressing," Schmidt cracked.

"Right," Cece said, unamused.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," Schmidt said, leaning in towards Cece and Joan, lowering his voice. "Look, I just came from the bar, home of the original Ebenezer. I mean, this isn't even my holiday, but this is getting out of hand."

"You were just with Nick?" a voice asked weakly from behind them. The all looked up to see Jess, who had quickly and silently joined them in the kitchen.

"How in the…" Schmidt started.

"Hey honey," Joan interrupted. "Can you show me what you had in mind for dinner, I want to get started."

"Just a second, Mom," Jess said, turning to Schmidt. "How… how was he? I mean, how is he?"

"He's… you know… Nick."

Nick turned to Winston, who was still actively ignoring him. What the hell is going on, he thought.

"And you guys were at the bar" Jess asked nervously. "Was it crowded? I mean, was he able to get off early?"

"Jess," Cece said carefully.

"Yeah, it was quiet," Schmidt said. "We left together. He… he actually gave me a lift home."

Jess blinked hard, pursed her lips, and nodded her head. Joan and Cece regarded her cautiously, as Nick watched on, still not understanding what he was seeing.

"So… Nick was… here? Downstairs?"

"I guess," Schmidt replied.

"And he didn't want to come up? Come and say hi?"

"I… uh… I think he had to get going. He had to get home, you know. Back to, uh…"

"Back to Caroline," Jess finished matter of factly. "You can say it, Schmidt. It's been long enough."

The words were clearly hard for Jess to say, and they were just as hard for Nick to hear. He again looked pleadingly at Winston, who continued to ignore him.

"No… freaking… way…" Nick said to himself, looking back at Jess. "Just… no way! Unacceptable, Miller!"

"Jess, I…" Schmidt started.

"I'm fine, Schmidt. No worries," Jess said, stepping into the kitchen and reaching into the fridge. She pulled out a large, plastic bag and set it on the table with a thud. "Here, Mom. These are the turkey breasts I got at the store. I'll just preheat the oven, and stick a few herbs under the skin."

Joan and Cece exchanged a worried look as Schmidt sat quietly. Jess continued through the kitchen, grabbing various spices and boxes from the cabinets and shelves, setting them on the island.

"Since I didn't get a whole turkey, there's nothing to stuff the stuffing in. Ha!" she said, humorlessly. "So, I hope you guys like Stove Top. Now if you'll excuse me a moment, I should go wash my hands."

Jess smiled and walked out of the kitchen towards the bathroom. Joan watched her daughter leave as Cece slapped Schmidt's shoulder, hard.

"Nice move, idiot!"

"Well, what was I supposed to do? Lie to her?"

"Yes! Yes! Isn't that obvious?"

"Well, clearly not."

"Okay," Joan said, trying to calm them both down. "Who wants to fill me in? Who is Caroline?"

"Caroline is…" Cece started.

"The absolute worst," Schmidt finished. "A selfish, soul sucking… soul sucker," Schmidt finished.

"…that about sums it up."

"Okay, so… what am I missing?" Joan asked again.

"Caroline is Nick's ex… well… current girlfriend," Schmidt explained. "It's kind of a long story."

"Joan," Cece took over. "Jess and Nick… they just… they could never communicate. Like, ever. And when they realized they weren't going to work…"

"They tried to stay friends," Schmidt continued. "And they tried to stay roommates. In retrospect, a terrible idea. Terrible for Jess, terrible for Nick, terrible for Winston, terrible for me. Everyone."

"About 6 months ago, Nick ran into Caroline, and… I dunno. They reconnected."

"Reconnected my ass," Schmidt said. "She was there and Nick fell back into her like any old habit. I guess it was just easier than living six feet away from someone you love but can't… "

Schmidt let the words trail off and shrugged his shoulders. Joan nodded her understanding and got up and started fussing with the food in the kitchen. Schmidt stood up and turned to Cece.

"Are you going to go check on her?" he asked.

"No, I think I'm gonna give her a minute."

"Okay, I'm going to go change. I'll be out in a minute to help," he said before disappearing into his room as Cece got up to help Joan in the kitchen. Nick saw this as an opportunity to finally get some answers out of Winston.

"Okay, man, you gotta…" Nick said turning. But when he got to where Winston had been standing, he realized he was gone.

"Just perfect," he said to himself.

Nick stood a moment, watching Joan and Cece prep the meal. Joan chopped some herbs and started seasoning the turkey as Jess requested, while Cece got some water boiling on the stove. Nick was stuck, again, and he wasn't sure who or what (if anything) would be coming to get him this time. He shook that unattractive thought and turned his mind to the ridiculous idea that he and Caroline would ever be together again. He'd never make himself go through that. And he'd sure as hell never make Jess go through that. At the thought of Jess, Nick found himself subconsciously moving past the kitchen, down the hall, and towards the bathroom. As he passed his room, he took a peek inside the open door to find it empty. He didn't dwell on the thought, though, and his feet carried him into the bathroom where he found Jess.

She was standing at the far sink, looking down, her hands gripping the sides tightly. Nick stepped in and mimicked her pose at the sink beside her. He watched her for several moments while she just stood, looking down. When she finally raised her head to look at herself in the mirror, Nick noted that there were no tears in her eyes. Just a look of resigned sadness. Stale sadness, Nick thought to himself. Anyone who didn't know her wouldn't have thought anything of it at all. She smoothed out her eyebrows and gave her bangs a few flicks before returning her hands to the sink. Nick kept his eyes on her eyes reflected in the mirror. They were still extraordinarily blue, of course, but they lacked the warmth they typically emitted. In fact, they possessed an iciness that Nick was not familiar with. Most people would still find them beautiful, he thought to himself. But he didn't like them like this. Not one bit. He took his eyes from her reflection and stepped towards her. Slowly he reached his hand towards hers, still gripping the side of the sink.

"Yeah, this won't be happening," Nick said as he covered her hand with his. Jess' hand let go of the sink and she turned quickly towards Nick. Before eye contact was made he found himself bolting upright in bed, back in his cold, dark, childhood bedroom in Chicago. He was freezing, and as he clutched his chest, he could feel under his robe that he had sweat clean through his shirt. He looked over at his nightstand to find an empty Heisler bottle, and the same flickering candle he had set there what seemed like hours before. Without hesitation he reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out his phone. He turned it on and hoped with all he had that there was enough power left for just one phone call.

**I know it's redundant, but thank you for reading.**


	6. Chapter 6

Nick trudged slowly through the elevator doors, dragging the black garbage bag that passed for his luggage on the floor behind him with his right hand. He turned, adjusted the paper bag he was holding in his left arm, and pushed the button for the fourth floor. He leaned back against the elevator wall and let his eyes close as he reflected on the past eight hours of his life.

His phone had failed him. Powering it on had taken all the juice it had left. It lit up, flashed the time telling him it was merely 10:30, and he didn't even get to Jess' number before the screen went back to black. Under normal circumstance, that would've been deflating for him. But not this night. He had taken a brief moment to think over his next move before he marched down the hall and knocked on his mother's bedroom door. Nick didn't have the time or the words to explain to his mother why, but he made it as clear as he could that he needed to get back to Los Angeles, and back to Jess, ASAP. Over the brief time he tried to explain his decision to his mother, he noticed with great curiosity what he interpreted as a change in her demeanor. What initially and undoubtedly started out as her disappointment quickly morphed into understanding, and then into what Nick thought may have been admiration. When he finally stopped talking, she gave him a small smile and walked straight away to Jamie's room to wake him up herself. Jamie, unsurprisingly, had been less understanding than his mother, but he was quickly persuaded by both Bonnie and DeAnn to take Nick to the airport, tout corps.

Turns out, midnight on Christmas Eve wasn't the most bustling time at Midway, and the flights were surprisingly affordable. Nick was able to find a flight that left Chicago at 12:42 and got into Los Angeles around 3:18, and he used the last of the holiday money he had worked so hard for on a cab ride out of LAX. The cab driver had been good enough to allow a quick pit stop over at Clyde's, and Nick promised to reward his good deed with a tip in the form of one dozen free Heisler's. To only be served off duty, of course. As the driver dropped Nick off outside the loft, he had glanced at the clock on the meter to see that it was 4:39 am. A draining Christmas morning, indeed.

The elevator pinged and Nick's eyes snapped open. He apprehensively exited the elevator and made his way to 4D, pausing outside the door. He thought about the things he saw the night before. He thought about his father. About Cece and Candy Cane Lane. About Schmidt and Per Se. About Winston and… Jess. He was afraid to enter the loft. Afraid to be disappointed. What if Jess wasn't there? What if it was all just some very vibrant dream? He stood for a while, mulling it over. But in the end, her really only had one choice. He slipped the key in the door, turned the handle, and quietly tip toed into 4D.

It didn't take long for his reservations to be quelled. He stepped into the loft and was struck by the smell of Hop Foos. He glanced into the living room and saw a pile of menus, chopsticks, and take out boxes that Jess had apparently failed to clean up. He resisted the urge to partake in the deliciousness of the tasty, tasty fare, but reminded himself there was work to do. He turned left and quietly made his way towards his room. As he stepped through his open door, he paused and looked at Jess' door. Every part of him just wanted to knock, tell her he was home, and join her in her bed. But he fought the instinct off. The little plan he had come up with on the flight home was going to be seen through, for better or worse. He silently closed the door behind him and went to work.

He quietly stuffed his luggage/garbage bag into the closet and took a look around the room. Deciding the wall over his writing table was the place to start, he dumped the contents of the paper bag out on his bed and walked over. He took a few mental measurements of the space, and turned back to his bed. He hadn't had time nor money to get much together, so he had the idea to just steal some of the decorations from the bar. Or 'borrow', he rationalized. On the bed he quickly organized his bounty: a three foot wide wreath, a handful of red ribbons, a few strands of small, blue lights, a half dozen small, plastic boxes designed to look like presents, and the tiniest bit of tinsel.

It took all of fifteen minutes for Nick to get it all together. When he finished, he took a step back to admire his handiwork. The wreath fit on the wall, squeezed in perfect symmetry between the shelves that bookended his desk. He had run some of the lights through the wreath, and ran the rest along the walls of his bedroom. He had carefully tied the ribbons into the wreath, and tossed a white sheet over his desk, where he then expertly placed the small, fake presents. All in all, it didn't look bad, but he thought he needed something else. With a snap of his fingers, he went to his closet and started rummaging through his garbage bag. He produced his cell phone and charger, as well as a half dozen of Walt's knock off candles. He spread the candles around his desk, below the wreath, and plugged his phone into the charger, and the charger into the wall.

As he waited for the phone to switch on, he went over what he was going to say. He'd never exactly been good at this sort of thing, but he'd found himself trying a lot harder since he had started up with Jess. All the same, he didn't want to overthink things. That only ever ended up getting in the way. As the phone clicked on, he slid his finger across the surface, picked out Jess' number, and hit 'call'. He raised the phone to his ear and took one last, big gulp. He listened into the receiver as the phone chimed on his end. After two rings, he heard Jess' phone go off across the hall. Three rings, four rings, five rings… six. Nick almost convinced himself that Jess wasn't home after all when on the seventh ring, she picked up.

"Nick?" she said sleepily on the other end.

"Jess… uh… hey," he said meekly. He forgot to anticipate what the sound of her voice might do to him.

"Nick, what time is it? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, Jess. Everything is really good."

"Are you guys up already? Because… good God… it's only 5 o'clock here."

"Uh… yeah… yeah, that's it. My mom likes to get an early start, you know."

"Um… okay…" she replied, still sounding mostly asleep. This was Nick's time to strike, before she started thinking clearly and asking questions.

"Hey, Jess. Can you do me a favor?"

"Yeah, I… I guess."

"I need you to go into my room for me. I need you to look on my desk. I…. I think I forgot my return ticket."

Nick held his breath a moment, hoping Jess wasn't awake enough to wonder how he knew she was at the loft while she was supposed to be in Portland.

"Are you kidding Nick? You forgot your ticket? How did you get to Chicago?"

"Different airline," he shrugged. "I just need you to check and maybe read me the information on the ticket. Can you do that for me?"

"Fine, Nick. Don't know why this couldn't have waited until later, but… just hang on."

Nick slid his finger across the phone to hang it up, and tossed it under his pillow. He positioned himself to the left of his Christmas Wreath, and waited anxiously for Jess to come peeking through the door. His heart nearly stopped when he saw the handle turn, and Jess stepped through, looking down. She was dressed in a pair of light blue pajama's with little kitten faces on them, speaking into her red, bunny eared iPhone.

"Nick? Nick? Are you still…"

She looked up, stopped dead in her tracks, and dropped her phone. She blinked the shock and sleep out of her instantly watery, round eyes. Ignoring her phone completely, she shuffled towards Nick, a smile slowly taking shape. She looked at Nick, then to the wreath, then back to Nick. The wreath, the lights, then back to Nick. She stopped in front of the wreath and took it in for a few moments. Nick stood watching, hoping. After a minute, she turned to Nick, revealing that her eyes were no longer merely watery, but a full-fledged flash flood. Nick was taken aback, and he started to worry he had done something wrong.

"Jess, I… I thought…"

"Shut up, Nick," she interrupted. She stepped into him, threw her arms over his shoulders, bounced to her tippy toes, and planted a soft, long, gentle kiss on her lips. After she broke off the kiss, she pulled him in close, buried her face in his shoulder, and just stood in their embrace. Nick in turned ran his hands slowly up and down her back before completely enveloping her slight frame in his arms. He wanted to talk to her, of course, but for the time being, this would more than suffice.

After a few minutes, Jess started to stir. She lifter her head from Nick's shoulder and took a step back. She broke the embrace and brought her hands to her face, wiping the tear residue from her eyes.

"So… hey there," Nick said.

"Hey."

"Uh… Merry Christmas?"

Jess threw her head back in a hearty laugh. She sniffed and again rubbed at her eyes. She once again looked around the room, glancing at the wreath, and then back at Nick.

"Nick, this… this is so amazing."

"I do what I can."

"Nick, seriously. This is…."

"It's nothing Jess. Really. I got most of this stuff from the bar, and…"

"That's hardly the point, Nick."

"… and I don't think I can really…"

"How did you know I was here?" Jess finally asked.

"Uh…" Nick said, trying to buy some time. "Just a hunch?"

"That's a pretty big hunch."

"You have no idea."

"What's that?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing. What do you think of the tree? Er, wreath?" Nick said, desperate to change the subject.

"I think it's about the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. But Nick, I still don't understand…"

"Jess, I was an idiot. I just wasn't thinking. What with my dad and all, and my own apprehension and going home. I didn't think about… you. And for that I am so, so sorry, Jess."

"Hey, it's okay, I…"

"No, Jess, it's not okay. That's why I'm here. And that's why I would've driven all the way to Portland tonight if you weren't here," Nick said, as he felt his own eyes go a bit bleary. "This should've been our first Christmas together. Our first of a hundred. And I go and blow it."

"Nick, it's not…"

"No, Jess. Let me finish," Nick said, gathering himself, not noticing the bemused look on Jess' face. "Jess, I wanted you in Chicago. Or I wanted to be with you in Portland. Or L.A., or Nashville, or Cleveland, or Tel Aviv, or…"

"Really, Tel Aviv?"

"… Point is, Jess… wherever you are, and for whatever reason, that's where I want to be. And here I go, blind idiot that I am, blowing what should've been our first Christmas together."

Jess smirked at Nick before closing her eyes and stepping towards him. Again, she put her arms around him and pulled him into a snug embrace.

"Nick?"

"Yeah?"

"You realize today is Christmas, right?"

"I guess…"

"And we're together now, right?"

"Yeah."

"So… what exactly have you blown again?"

"Hmm."

"We're here. Together. You've got me."

"Yeah, I guess I do got you. And if it's okay by you, I don't plan on letting go. Not for a long, long while. Like, a long while."

Nick let his hands fall to Jess' hips and smiled at her. He hadn't thought of it like that. All he'd been through tonight, or at least all he thought he'd been through, had led him to this. And it was just right. They stood a while looking at each other, taking in the moment. After a good bit longer, Jess spoke up.

"So… it's only 5:30 am, Nick."

"I know, right? Didn't even know that was a real thing."

"What should we do? Can't see me getting back to sleep for a while."

"I don't know, Jess," Nick said, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. "What do people normally do at 5:30 am? Watch the sunrise, maybe?"

"Sure," Jess said with a grin. "Maybe in about an hour or so."

"Is that right?"

"Ohh, I know. We could watch a Christmas movie!"

"I want to do whatever you want to do, Jess. Honestly, that's all I want. Should we go see what's on TV?"

"Hmm," Jess frowned. "It's not very Christmassy out there. Here, let me go get my computer, and we can just watch a movie in here."

"Perfect. I'll get the bed cleared off."

Jess bounded out of the room and Nick began tidying up the bed. He arranged the pillows so he and Jess could prop themselves up enough to comfortably watch the movie and turned down his comforter. He walked over to the desk and picked up the candle that was sitting in the center. It was the candle he had used to get around his house in Chicago. The candle he had lit just before seeing his father, and starting on his strange journey. He set the candle on the table by his bed just as Jess came back into the room, shutting the door behind her.

"Jess, there's just one more thing."

"What's that?" she asked, readying her computer.

"Things got a little… expensive today. What with the plane ticket and all. I don't think I'm really going to be able to give you much in the way of gifts this year."

"Nick Miller," Jess said, setting her computer down. "This is without a doubt the single greatest gift anyone has ever given me. Don't you dare feel bad about any of this anymore. That's an order."

"Aye aye," Nick said, giving a tiny salute. "Permission to come to bed, sir?"

"Permission granted," Jess said in her best army sergeant voice.

They got into bed together and lied down arm in arm. Jess smiled up at Nick and gave him another quick kiss before propping the computer up between their laps.

"So… what do you want to watch?"

"Die Hard?"

"Something Christmassy."

"Die Hard's Christmassy."

"Something more Christmassy."

"Gremlins?"

"Nick."

"Alright, alright. How about you just choose."

"Hmm. It's A Wonderful Life is too long, I know you won't be feeling Love Actually..."

"Eyck."

"How about an old classic? A Christmas Carol?"

"Uh… I actually just saw a version of that at my mom's."

"Oh. Was it a good version?"

"Yeah, it was actually kind of… amazing?"

"Ooh, which one? Who was in it?"

"Oh, just a bunch of nobodies. I'll tell you later."

"Okay… well what should we watch then?"

"You know what Jess," Nick said looking deep into her blue eyes. Deep enough to cause her to give him a questioning look. "Let's just watch Love Actually if you want. Your day, Jess."

"Our day, Nick. From now on."

Nick smiled and gave Jess a quick squeeze. She queued up the movie on the computer and entwined her fingers with his as the trailers played. As the title card appeared, a thought quickly occurred to Nick.

"Hey Jess?" he asked.

"What's up?"

"This may sound kind of strange, but…. Do you have a sister?"

* * *

**So, there it is. I know I dropped the ball a bit not getting it done by Christmas, but it couldn't be helped. Thank you so much again to all who have taken the time to read, follow, favorite, and comment. It really is quite generous, and I appreciated every one of them. While this story is far from perfect, I'm a bit sad it's done. Quite enjoyed myself while writing it. Until next time, thanks again!**


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